Starting last Saturday, this has been a ghastly week and am glad to finally see the back of it. It began with the cramping after prenatal yoga class (see last post). But that ended soon, and I began the work week happily coasting along. Then on Wednesday, I get a call from my dear friend and also preggie neighbor, V. "OK, I wouldn't panic, but..." I can't think of better words one can design to ensure a person does precisely that. Moving along the narrative, sometime last week another neighbor's preggie friend had brought her kid over to play. All the kids were running around in the front yards, and the mas were yakking away. Apparently, preggie friend had a rash on her face, but the doctor had told her no biggie, wasn't contagious, blah, so obviously she wasn't taking any precautions.
Her blood test results came back Wednesday, and guess what? All was not well and dandy. Poor preggie lady had Fifth Disease. That sounds calamitous, but it's usually a rather benign virus. Except when one is preggie, when it can cause miscarriage. And it's airborne, so yep, it was contagious as heck. Poor lady told her friend who told my friend who told moi. And of course, we all pregnant women panicked. I told my nurse who sent me for a blood test pronto. Apparently, the results take a couple of weeks, so that's a nice little Damocles sword dangling over my head.
Then on Thursday I began spotting. Again! Big groan. I tottered to the nearest couch and called the husband. I promised to take it easy. A promise I broke the very next day when Raina threw a huge tantrum, refused to go time out and had to be grabbed by furious moi and dumped on time out chair. As soon as I attempted to straighten up, I knew something was wrong. I couldn't. So now I've messed up my back. Just a few days before Raina's multiple birthday parties.
But the week's over. There's a silver lining to every cloud. So everyone says.
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